


Cas Punches Someone (And The Author Is Bad At Titles)

by archangelgaybriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelgaybriel/pseuds/archangelgaybriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which wedding preparations are being conducted, Castiel drops his scarf and punches someone in the face, and not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas Punches Someone (And The Author Is Bad At Titles)

**Author's Note:**

> *hacking cough* *scratchy voice* Do you know how hard it is to think of things to write based on a single word prompt when you're unimaginative and uncreative? Initially [_someone_](http://casnovck.tumblr.com) said "let's have them strangle each other with scarves" and I would've honestly gone with that if I lost all trace of common sense - which I am very close to achieving anyway.
> 
> This work is part of the destiel christmas minibang and I got paired up with an artist, [casnovck](http://casnovck.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who happens to be a huge HO! :) (More precisely, the "ho" in "ho ho ho".) She also has access to my ao3 account so hi if ur reading this u can change this & watch pushing daisies and lotr

Snow is drifting slowly and silently when Castiel steps out of the bookstore, the snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. His shift at the bookstore just ended and the sun’s already halfway through its descent, gradually darkening the sky. The winter is especially chilly and he wants nothing more than to be back home, in the warmth of his dorm.

He pushes his hands into his pocket and tucks his chin further into his coat, feet scuffing against the pavement as he goes along the well worn route. The silence is unsettling, getting under his skin. There's barely anyone around - and those that are are hurrying back home - yet he feels a pair of eyes on him, watching, assessing. His footsteps speed up.

“Hey!” A gruff voice shouts from behind him, and Cas’ blood runs cold. Oh God, he could get robbed, beaten or worse, killed. His only saving grace is the fact that he can throw a good punch, thanks to the coaching from his brother. He walks faster. “Hey!”

The footsteps behind him get quicker and quicker and he knows it's too late to outrun his assailant, so when a hand clamps over his shoulder he spins around and swings his arm with all he's got, and then his leg reaches out and swipes against the back his knees, sending him tumbling towards the ground.

There is a thump as his fist connects with his stalker’s face before the guy lets out a “umpf” and is thrown off balance. It takes a while for the sight to sink in - dirty blonde hair, a hand pressed against their cheek, the other clutching a very familiar looking scarf, and green, green eyes squinting up at him. “What the hell dude?”

That's his scarf - in the other man’s hand. And a pair of very pissed off, green eyes staring at him. Castiel’s at a loss for words, the dull ache on his fist subsiding, the arm poised for another punch faltering by his side. It's a while before he manages to stutter out a, “oh my god, I’m so sorry” and shoves his hand out, an offering to pull the guy up. “I thought you were a stalker,” Cas rushes out.

“‘S okay.” The guy says, and takes Cas’ outreached hand. The hand which was pressing against his cheek is now dusting his coat and pants, and Castiel can start to see the faint bruise starting to blossom. Heat rises up his cheeks and he shuffles his feet nervously. “I… I should take you to the hospital.”

The other guy snorts, as if Cas’ suggestion is completely absurd, and looks at him as if he’s grown two heads. “Over a punch?”

Cas falters, guilt creeping up. Damn him and his paranoia. The guy doesn't seem to mind though, judging by his cheeky grin. “Though I have to say, you can throw a pretty mean punch. Don't worry about me. It'll heal in a couple days.”

“Are you sure?” Cas blurts out, and the guy just shrugs nonchalantly and answers, “It's not my first time getting punched.” Castiel doesn't ask further.

Then the guy starts, like he just remembered something. “Oh yeah, I was going to return you your scarf. Before you punched me. You dropped it outside the bookshop.” In his hand is Castiel’s scarf, the one with yellow and black stripes, a gift from Gabriel a year ago. Cas receives it shyly, still fresh with embarrassment, and murmurs a quiet “thank you”.

“No problem.” The guy replies, and throws him a wink. Cas can't stop the blush that creeps up again, and this time he isn't sure it's from the shame.

He ties the scarf round his neck and tightens it slightly. When he looks up the guy is shooting him a smile, dazzling and charming, looking unfairly  handsome for someone who just got punched no more than a minute ago. “So where are you headed?”

Cas hesitates, then considers the fact that he just punched someone in the face and didn't get punched back. “Back to my dorm,” he replies, nodding towards the building in the not too far distance.

“You're a student too? I’m Dean by the way,” the guy says, and stretches out a hand. Cas introduces himself and shakes his hand, and finds that Dean’s grip is strong and warm. “Cool. What are you studying?”

“History,” Cas answers, half expecting a halting remark, but Dean just grins good naturedly. “I’m studying engineering. I’m going to my dorm too. Come, I'll walk back with you.”

Then, a second later he adds cheekily, “and protect you from stalkers.” Cas doesn't hold in his snort.

Dean slides his arm around Cas’ shoulder, a gesture that is all too intimate, and then slides it off like he just realised that a beat too late. Cas wants to say that he doesn't mind, so much so that it probably isn't entirely too appropriate, but he swallows the words and start up small talk.

They begin walking back, their shoulders brushing ever so often, but neither of them pulling away. Dean tells him about his little brother, pride lacing his voice, Cas tells him about his big brothers, and they both agree that siblings are insufferable in every way. At some point in time Cas finds his arm slung around Dean’s shoulders, both of them walking impossibly close, but neither of them says anything, and they reach the entrance of the dorm just like that.

The sky is dark and dotted with stars, and the wind is cold and biting, but even now Cas has never felt warmer.

 

* * *

 

 

_**4 years later** _

 

“Hey,” comes a voice from behind him and Cas startles from where he's standing over his desk, before warm arms are sliding around his waist and pulling him close. Cas closes his eyes, adrenaline dissipating out of his nerves, and leans his head back, onto the shoulders of-

“Hi Dean,” Cas greets, and Dean presses a small kiss on the side of his mouth in response. “You need to stop scaring me.”

“At least I know to dodge if you try to punch me again,” Dean murmurs, and Cas turns his head, trying to hide the redness of his cheeks, an effort he know is futile. Dean just chuckles. “I can't believe you still remember that.”

“The bruise took a couple weeks to heal, y’know,” Dean says, and of course Cas knows. He’d seen Dean after the incident, and then again and again and again, apologizing each time they met until the purplish blue had faded. Dean had asked him out then, the guy who punched his face, smiling widely and looking at Cas nervously through a slightly swollen eye. Cas had thought he was insane, or maybe the punch had knocked out some of his sense, but now here they were, four years later, still blissful and grossly happy together.

“Nothing ever marrs my pretty face,” Dean replies, puffing his chest arrogantly, and Cas just huffs a laugh and turns around to face him properly.

“Unfortunately,” Cas replies, and sighs heavily in mock despondence. Dean’s eyes flick down to the scarf around his neck, eyes widening. “Hey, you're wearing the same ugly scarf from all those years ago.”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “I’ll tell Gabriel you said that, and he'll put cereal in your bed sheets again.”

“I’m glad you punched me all those years ago,” Dean mumbles, leaning his head against Cas’ shoulder.

“And I’m glad I dropped my scarf,” Cas adds, and shifts closer to Dean. He pulls away a few moments later, and nods at the door. “You ready to go look at the flowers? There's still the caterers, the invitations, and we haven't picked out the venues-”

“Got it,” Dean interrupts him with another kiss, and takes Cas’ hand in his, his grip strong and warm.

“Let's go.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me over on [tumblr](http://puppymish.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/puppymish)! If you liked this, comments and kudos are very much appreciated. Also right now someone is singing downstairs but they're dragging out all the words and it sounds like they're wailing into the mic, this is Great.


End file.
